Rachel Thompson

Jack Canon's American Destiny

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

I
look in the mirror, and what do I see? Extra lines, less hair, a little
more weight, depending on my current level of fitness. Time stands
still for no one. And, if you’re open to growing, learning, that’s a
good thing. A very good thing.

By
looking at that reflection—literally and figuratively—I’ve seen more
changes than I can possibly count over the years. With more salt than
pepper in my goatee, my facial hair shows some tread on my tires. Muscle
strains, joint pain, squinting to read small print, all come with
living a full life year after year for almost five decades. And don’t
get me going about my torn rotator cuff. But it certainly beats the
alternative.

I’ve
never been one to hide my age, starting when I was a young kid, and
looking even younger. I always had a stubborn, driven core that pushed
me to work hard, even if the task or nature of the job was unappealing,
or even if it made me want to puke. In my teenage years I built banana
splits and flipped burgers, then mowed yards in triple-digit
temperatures. Once I made it out of college, I worked long hours trying
to scoop my rival reporter at the cross-town newspaper—my first paying
gig in the writing world. But my drive and competitiveness hit an
advanced level once I hit the grind of corporate life.

Information
Technology was the field, the very hot field that sucked me in like an
F5 tornado. It’s a remarkable industry, with an amazing array of
talented, visionary people, especially in the early days, before anyone
had used the term start-up.

From
day one, I never quite felt comfortable working in IT, and most of the
time truly felt out of place. Technology has never been a keen interest
of mine. I had a few talents that helped me along the way…I’m pretty
good with numbers and motivating people to get stuff done, even if I
didn’t truly understand the nuts and bolts of what the hell we were
trying to accomplish. It didn’t matter. I was told to break through the
brick wall, and I did anything to reach the goal. I was about the best
grinder around. Many were smarter, but few worked as hard. I never let
my brain relax, because I couldn’t afford to.

And
then I woke up. It wasn’t an overnight epiphany. I had internal
struggles for years, my true voice softly telling me to find a job or
business that suited me. It took a good ten years for me to take action,
to recognize that little voice as my true self.

I
have a friend who knew what he wanted to do when he was fourteen years
old, maybe younger. He dreamed of working as a nuclear physicist. I’m
not kidding. He was—is—brilliant. He wanted it so badly he could taste
it. He talked about it all the time, studied everything about that
world, and mapped his path toward his destiny.

Outside
of dreaming to play for any number of sports teams, while growing up I
could never figure out what I was destined to do with my life. Working
as a reporter allowed me to work a muscle that I’d never used. The job
itself was bit confining, but it ignited a creative spark in me that
stayed alive like the Olympic flame. Then came the IT gig.

It
was all meant to be…to provide life experiences that have taught me
plenty, that I can share with others, my family, and, yes, write about
in the most unbridled, embellished way possible. It’s empowering to
finally admit the truth about who I am, how I want to contribute to the
world, to evoke emotion from readers of my work. Is it a mid-life
crisis? That’s not how I see it. I don’t want to buy a red sports car, I
love my wife more than ever, and I have great fulfillment by watching
three kids grow up and figure out life.

Instead,
I’ve experienced a mid-life enlightenment. I might be in my late
forties, but it’s better to admit who you are and what you’re passionate
about before there’s no life left to live.

My
only advice to my kids and anyone else of any age? Listen to your true
self. Find your passion and then don’t hide it. Work like hell to be
better at it, and be proud of who you are and how you impact the world.

It’s
funny how things work out in life. My friend? Well, the government shut
down funding for the super-collider, and after investing seven years of
college and low-paying internships in cold-weather cities, his dreams
of making a living as a nuclear physicist were flushed down the toilet.
Now, though, he’s one of those visionary, brilliant people in the IT
industry. He’s damn good at it, and I think he enjoys most of it. Bravo
for him!

As
for me, I’m a writer. I think I’m pretty damn good at it, and I’ll work
my ass off to get better. That’s my passion. I hope you find yours.

Behind
the façade of every corporate takeover executives pull levers this way
and that, squeezing the last profitable nickel out of the deal. But no
one knows the true intent of every so-called merger. No one knows the secret bonds that exist. An Indian technology giant swallows
up another private company that has deep roots in North Texas. For one
unassuming man the thought of layoffs, of losing his own job to a bunch
of arrogant assholes feels like a kick to the jewels. Until the day Michael’s life changes forever. Perverse alliances. An affair of the
heart. A grisly murder. A spiraling string of events thrusts Michael
into a life-or-death fight to save a tortured soul and hunt down a
brutal killer…one who lurks closer than he ever imagined. Greed knows no boundaries.

Thirteen-year-old
Ben Grable stared out the window of his father’s car. He wished he
could close his eyes and be somewhere—anywhere else—just not on the way
to the nursing home.He hated today.

Every
Sunday, his father dragged him to visit his grandmother. Two years ago,
the woman who had laughed at all of his jokes, baked him chocolate chip
cookies, and played Chutes and Ladders with him growing up was given a
death sentence. It wasn’t fair to his Nana or the people who watched her
die an inch at a time.

“Come on, son,” his father said when he parked his car in the lot. “Put on that smile your Nana loves to see.”

The
one-story, all-brick building sat on an acreage surrounded by pine
trees. The scene was serene, but the moment Ben stepped inside, the
smell of urine and decay was overwhelming.

Old
people with crinkled faces and withered hands who had shrunk to a
portion of their original height sat in chairs lined against the wall
saying nothing.Nothing.The
years had sucked the life and voices out of them. Nursing assistants
offered cookies and a smile along with a pat on the patients’
decomposing backs and told them it was a beautiful day. What did they
care if the sun was shining or a tornado was about to sweep them away?
Every moment of each day was the same. Pain. Loneliness. Humiliation.
And fading memories of who they once were.

“Nana?”
Ben said, and walked to the elderly woman sitting in a wheel chair that
faced the window. Even before he reached her, he noticed the spastic
movements of her hands and head were worse. He bent down next to her in
the room the size of his closet, a crucifix hanging on one wall.

Her
tired, puffy eyes stared at him, and Ben’s heart sank when he realized
she didn’t recognize him. He could have been Batman or a poodle, and she
wouldn’t have known the difference.

After a few minutes of trying to understand what she was saying, Ben turned to his father. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

His father gave him an understanding nod.

He’d
wandered down the hallway, blinking back tears of anger and pain. Angry
that his grandmother was never going to get better and the pain of
knowing he’d already lost her.

On
the other side of the nursing home, he spotted another set of double
doors. Staring inside, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Babies,
children, and young adults filled the long, narrow hallway; some lay
flat on their backs on bare mattresses, their heads rolling back and
forth in slow-motion succession. Others traipsed the floor mindlessly
with unblinking, glazed eyes, their backs hunched over. Heads too large
for their bodies—slanted eyes, some missing limbs, a couple with wide,
open gashes in their upper lips.Where did these monsters come from, and why were they here?

Nurses
changed diapers, or knelt beside mats and held baby bottles for
children who looked as old, or older, than Ben. Long, guttural moans and
helpless cries filtered through the doors, the smell of feces was
disgusting.

He jumped when he felt something touch his shoulder.

“Sad, isn’t it?” a young nurse said.

“What’s wrong with them?” Ben asked, tasting his own sour bile.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Different things. Most were born this way, and their parents just couldn’t take care of them.”

“Why are they here? In a nursing home?”

“Part
of the building is for a nursing home and”—she nodded to the other side
the window—“this part is controlled by the state. There are so many
nursing homes for old people and not enough institutions for people like
this that a few months ago we started taking in the overflow.”

“Will they ever get better? Go home?”

The nurse shook her head. “I’m afraid not. This is the only life they’ll ever know.”

When
he looked back through the windowed door, he gasped and jumped back. On
the other side of the window, only inches away from his face, a pair of
eyes pleaded with Ben for help.

“It’s okay. They won’t hurt you,” the nurse told him.

Ben
shook his head back and forth slowly, tears welling in his eyes. He
turned and raced through the halls toward the front door of the
building. The face on the other side of the door burned into his
memory—the bulging, watery eyes, the slobbering drool running down the
glass, the hopeless and far-away look of misfortune and doom.

Heart
racing, his temples throbbing, he was going to vomit. Breathless when
he reached his father’s car, he found it locked. Panicked, he pulled at
the handle over and over. “Open, please, open!” he sobbed
uncontrollably.

He
turned, leaned back against the door, and slowly sank to the concrete.
If his friends saw him, they’d call him a sissy-boy. It didn’t matter.
Those things, those sad, awful looking creatures weren’t human. His
parents had always told him that all of God’s children were created
equally. But it wasn’t true.

He
brought his knees up to his chest and covered his tear-streaked face
with his hands, trying hard to get the images out of his mind.

It just wasn’t true.

Soon
after Ann Ferguson and Ben Grable marry, and Ben unseals his adoption
papers, their perfect life together is torn apart, sending the couple to
opposite sides of the courtroom.

Representing
Ann, lawyer Michael J. McConaughey (Mac) feels this is the case that
could have far-reaching, judicial effects -- the one he's been waiting
for.

Opposing counsel knows this high profile case happens just once in a lifetime.

And
when the silent protest known as HUSH sweeps the nation, making
international news, the CEO of one of the top ten pharmaceutical
companies in the world plots to derail the trial that could cost his
company billions.

Critically
acclaimed literary thriller HUSH not only questions one of the most
controversial laws that has divided the nation for over four decades,
but captures a story of the far-reaching ties of family that surpasses
time and distance.

***
Hush does not have political or religious content. The story is built
around the emotions and thoughts of two people who differ in their
beliefs.

EDITORIAL
REVIEW: "Suspenseful and well-researched, this action-packed legal
thriller will take readers on a journey through the trials and
tribulations of one of the most controversial subjects in society
today." - Katie French author of "The Breeders," "The Believer's," and "Eyes Ever To The Sky."

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